


Not The Best Way to Say Hello

by your_cringy_bro



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Aka I throw my trauma onto the Duke because what a guy right, Anxiety Attacks, Deceit is Gay, Gen, I DONT MAKE THE RULES, No romantic pairings yet uhhh I promise I'll write it eventually lol, Out of Character, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Remus Sanders - Freeform, Remus is Aromantic, Social Anxiety, Suggestive Themes, The duke - Freeform, Trauma, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 03:17:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19737223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/your_cringy_bro/pseuds/your_cringy_bro
Summary: Remus has some real issues. Dark comedy to cover up some fucked up feelings. Trauma, etc. Name it, he has it. So he hates the fact his friend Damien (Deceit) just invited him outside, you know, to the outside world. But he'd take a bullet for that slippery snake, so whatever. High chances of throwing up ensue and Virgil, an unknowing accomplice, finds a friend in this batshit crazy rat man we all know and (not really) love.Pay attention to triggers, mentions of trauma and abuse, as well as semi-graphic vomiting. Also brief panic attacks. ((Also at one point Remus makes a kinda nsfw joke to patton, past that you're okay))DISCLAIMER:I'm not romanticizing mental illness, or at least-- this is not my intent. I have PTSD from several years of abuse and project onto characters a lot. So! If you feel as if I am, please let me know.





	Not The Best Way to Say Hello

Remus wished that for once, he could just have one fucking normal social outing. 

Damien had invited him out to a party, something small and personal, with some newfound friends he had recently acquired. And while Damien’s reputation was full of nothing but lies, Remus found himself agreeing anyway. He tended to bring a certain amount of attention onto himself that Damien couldn’t handle, a crutch for his friend’s metaphorical broken sense of self-worth.  
No matter how many times it ended up with him hurling into a bush, stomach swirling around on an empty stomach. (The amount of food he ate before never really mattered anyway.)

He shows up early, just in case, at Damien’s friend’s door, holding a small platter of rather disgusting cookies with unbearable amounts of hot sauce in them. 

He always brought the best dare gifts. 

At the front door was a short, but sweet looking man. Innocent and baby faced, probably a freshman in college as compared to his and Damien’s third year stress wrinkles. Freckles dotted his expression and his honey eyes grew wide at the sight of Remus’ appearance. 

He felt the heat grow under his black button up collar. Usually people looking at him was because of the white streak in his hair, or the heavy dark eye shadow, strange facial hair, something.   
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Apologies, I’m Damien’s friend and--” 

“Oh my gosh! Gee wizz, you remind me so much of a friend of mine!” He squealed, holding his hand out politely, “My name is Patton! Damien has been talking about you. I didn’t expect you to have such cool style though!” 

Remus was… a little taken aback at that. Still shell shocked, he took Patton’s hand and let him lead the two of them into the lounge. A large grey L-shaped couch, large chapel windows, muted colors for the room. Wasn’t his style, he thought with a quirk of a grin, but it was certainly telling. 

In front of the fireplace was a laid out boy in maybe his sophomore college years, scribbling in a coloring book. When he noticed Patton and him, however, he scrambled to pull the book back to his chest, face now alight with red blush. Remus noticed the black makeup smudged around his eyes.   
“Virgil!” Patton huffed, “How many times have I told you, kiddo! You don’t need to be ashamed of your coping mechanisms.” He placed his hands on his hips, looking oddly similar to a disappointed father.

“First of all, I’m older than you,” Virgil said, “Second of all, I just… didn’t know we’d have new people.” He grumbled.

Remus’ face split into a grin and he giggled, “My name is Remus.” 

Patton nodded in agreement and gestured to the couch. He leaned over to take the plate from Remus. He looked at him in awe, but smoothed into a giggly fit, “Careful padre! Those cookies are very heated,” He wiggles his eyebrows, '' unless you want to get all hot and bothered. It’d certainly turn this night into a fun one!” He cackled as Patton turned bright red and walked off with the cookies, mumbling under his breath. He was so distracted by the sight, he nearly missed Virgil scoffing. 

“Don’t be an asshole, you just met the guy.” 

“You think I haven’t done worse with people I knew less about?” He says slyly. Not a total lie, Remus had a reputation for being the grade’s go-to when it came to rather intimate moments, but the implication he went out of his way to have sex with guys he didn’t know was false. He mentally cursed himself for the shitty attempt to somehow seem cooler in front of one of Damien’s friends. 

“So. How the hell do I know you?” Virgil asks, slipping on a hoodie and moving closer to the fireplace. 

“Damien invited me.” He hummed, crossing his legs and leaning forward onto them, resting his chin on his palm. The smile across his face was Cheshire-like. 

Virgil’s eyebrows went up for a moment, before rolling his eyes and reclining against the brick. 

“Makes sense that Damien would be friends with some freaks.” 

Remus appeared aghast, pressing a hand to his chest in mock-hurt. However, he did not reply, only leaned back to scroll through his phone until Damien arrived. 

A few more people filtered in. Someone who kindly introduced themselves as Roman, far too egotistical for his taste. And another more robotic fellow who called himself Logan, but who everyone else called different pet-names. Pocket protector, Microsoft Nerd, Specs, Lo-lo. It varied, but it seems the constant affect was annoyance. 

Remus had almost admitted to himself a few times that he enjoyed their gentle presence. It gave an aura of carefully found family. Close knit friends. It reminded him of himself and Damien. 

And he would dwell longer on their friendship if his insides weren’t churning with displeasure. Remus first noticed it when Patton had left him alone with Virgil. It grew worse when the other two joined. It became incorrigible when the night fell and Damien was still not here. He could feel himself shudder softly, not enough to warn anyone, but enough that Remus knew at some point soon, he’d need to excuse himself. Then came the long hour of explaining why that just happened. 

He was already dreading it. So he piled up the jokes, obscene and inappropriate ones. Ones even he cringed at.  
Causing the group to groan or shout. Each one made him feel a little bit better. Just a tiny bit, that he could still perform even in the worst of circumstances. 

No one commented when he didn’t stand up or move, or relax from his slightly hunched form. 

It wasn’t until he made some faux joke about butts that Virgil did the worst thing to possibly cross his mind. He pretended to vomit. 

The sound crossed his mind, and within seconds he was darting through the house, throwing himself into the first bathroom he could find and basically shoving his head in the toilet to vomit today's lunch.

At least he shut the door. 

He clenched his fists and scowled. Tears sprung into his eyes and he dashed them away with the back of his hand. Remus ground his fist into the tile as another wave of nausea passed through him and into the bowl. 

Shame felt like a physical presence now. Thick at his sides and stuck in his throat. He threw up, again, at some random persons house. 

He was so pathetic. 

There was a light knock at the door, soft and unassuming.   
“Um, you okay man?” It was Virgil, he recognized.   
He decided to spare his pride and act like the whole house didn’t hear everything that just expelled from his stomach. 

He had no idea what to respond.   
Yes, I’m okay, I just throw up at every social event because of my past?   
No, I’m not alright, I’m throwing up?   
No, I’m not okay, but if I say I’m okay there’s a chance you’ll forget this happened?

Nothing seemed right. He wanted to go home, he wanted to fucking bawl his eyes out in shame and swear to never leave his dorm room again. 

“Hey, tap the ground to respond. One tap for yes, two for no. Do you need an ambulance?”   
Two taps.   
“Is this… are…” He seems to struggle with his words for a moment. “Are you sick?”   
Two taps. 

He hears a shaky sigh, “Do you… Are you anxious?” 

A pause, but one tap.   
“Can I come in?”   
An immediate two taps.   
“Did you know this was going to happen?”   
One tap.   
“This happens a lot, doesn’t it…?” 

One, mournful, tap, followed by a long sigh from Remus. 

A long silence settles between them, only filled by whispered from Virgil to the others. And soon he hears the conversations in the lounge continue. Perhaps Virgil had left him?

“Please, can you let me in? Just to make sure you’re not dying?” 

Remus could tell that tone, it’s the one that Damien used when he spent hours looking at his pill bottles. It meant ‘let me in, because I’m worried and won’t let it go’. Which, fair enough. 

“Mm’ph, ‘s open.” He mumbles, his face buried in the crook of his arm, still leaning on the toilet. 

The door opens and Remus doesn’t bother looking up, but the urge to throw up grows once again in his chest and his grip on the seat grows tight. 

“H-hey hey, no, it’s okay man, I won’t…” Virgil trails off, shutting the door behind him and sits as far away as he can.   
He gives him a small grin, but it’s weak.   
“Come to laugh?” Remus mutters.   
“No! Why would I do that…?” He says, pulling his knees to his chest. 

Remus shrugs his shoulders. He’s given up now. 

“I just, I know how it feels,” Virgil starts, drumming his fingers on his knees, “The others do too, it’s why they’re worried. They think they said something wrong.” He laughs to himself.   
“They didn’t.” Remus affirms.   
“I know. This was bound to happen tonight, wasn’t it?”   
Remus doesn’t bother replying, he knows his answer. 

“I know I’m not exactly a friend yet, but I’m here to listen. We can trade war stories.” 

“War stories?” Remus asks, lifting his face. Virgil’s hood is up, his chin resting in the nook between his legs and his chest. 

“Yeah. You got problems, I got problems. We share stories, you feel better. You’ll probably stop feeling sick too.” 

“Why on earth would I trust YOU with my story?” 

“Because the others know mine. I know theirs. I know Damien's.” That shocks Remus, probably clear on his face, because Virgil sees it.

“Yeah, I know. Listen, believe it or not, while not a lot of people like me, they like me listening to them. So at least I can be kind of useful. You don’t even have to tell me everything, just, whatever will make you more comfortable with me knowing. Being Damien’s friend and all, I’m assuming we’ll cross paths again. And if I know what sets you off, I can stop it from happening or helping you cope.” 

“We just met, but you’re propositioning to be my friend and helping me with my otherwise undescribed trauma…?” Remus raises an eyebrow, look incredulous. 

Virgil shrugs his shoulders again, looking away. “Us hellbrains have to stick together, right?” 

Remus doesn’t understand it, but doesn’t really feel as if he has a choice.   
Either leave in embarrassment, stay in this bathroom until he rots, or perhaps save the night if this discussion works out. 

“I have PTSD.” Remus blurts, leaning away from the toilet and scooting back until his back hit the wall. He leaned his head back and shut his eyes, trying to focus on his breathing. 

“Spent a couple years in a hell hole, came out of it with PTSD, hypersexuality, intrusive thoughts, the lot.” He laughs, “And I was absolutely ruined. No where I went outside of my dorm with Damien was safe. Turned my life upside down. Now I can’t go anywhere I don’t know really well without throwing up a mask or throwing up my insides.” He lets out a watery chuckle. 

Virgil doesn’t say anything, just watching and listening. 

“It’s not because of anything you guys do, not really. It’s because of me. And I know it. When I said it was nothing the others did, I meant it.” He presses his fingertips together and drags a thumb soothingly over his knuckles like Damien does in moments of panic. 

“It can be anything. Sometimes it’s just the fact I’m somewhere new.” He says sadly, voice thick. “Cause back then. Back then it usually meant something much worse.” 

His mind drifts for a moment, frowning. He hated it. He hated her. 

“I’m sorry.” Virgil says, his gaze still felt on Remus’ form. 

“Nothing you could do, you didn’t know me. You weren’t there.” 

“I’m not sorry I didn’t do anything. I’m sorry you had to experience it.”

“But you didn’t have anything to do with--” 

“I’m being sympathetic.” He explains. “I know it wasn’t my fault, but I feel for you. And if anything, I’m sorry for myself, knowing somehow another kid went through some shit without ever knowing.” He wavers. 

Remus throws his hands up, tossing on a grin, “What can ya do, right? It’s not like I made it obvious.” 

Virgil nods slowly. Even if he doesn’t agree, it’s not the time to delve into his own personal issues. 

“What are your triggers?” Virgil suggests. 

“Usually new places, loud screaming, most flavors of pringles, certain cars, it’s--” He stops and shakes his head, “It’s ridiculous.” 

“Not to us. It’s important to know if you’re gonna be here for another couple hours, if you want of course!” Virgil adds quickly. 

Remus weighs the options and bites his lip, before pulling out his phone and handing it to Virgil.   
“Gimme your digits, emo.” And before Virgil says a word, he says, “I’m not hitting on you, it’s so I don’t have to say them out loud.”   
Virgil nods, typing in his number and handing it back. Remus goes through his mental list so far, not exactly sure if he’s gotten them all considering different things trigger him on different days, and sends them to the emo teen. 

He reads them over, and nods. 

“Okay, we can do that. Stay here.” He says and stands up. Remus feels his stomach drop, “Wait--”   
“I’ll be right back, I promise. Probably with Damien because I’m dragging him here whether he likes it or not.” He scowls. He opens up the door and Remus tries again, “Virgil--” The purple clad adolescent pauses in his steps and looks back. 

“You didn’t tell me… your war story.” He says, his words fumbling over themselves. Virgil nods, pursing his lips. 

“I spent three years in an abusive relationship with this asshole. He beat the shit out of me sometimes. Grew into the habit of putting eye shadow under my eyes to hide the bruises.” He taps the dark marks under his eyes to accentuate his point, “Now I wear ‘em with pride. Been a couple years since I left.” 

Remus struggles with this information, his hand unconsciously rising to press against the maroon edges of his own eye shadow, 

“Does it get better…?” He asks, not even fully aware of the question he asked. 

It takes a moment, but Virgil nods. “Not right away. But you wake up one day and realize you don’t feel as alone anymore. And then it’s just…” 

He shrugs, “Not as bad anymore.” 

Remus seems content with the message and Virgil ducks out of the room. He’s gone for a few minutes, in which Remus hurls another glob of spit into the toilet, and when he comes back it’s with a familiar face. 

Damien practically leaps into his friend’s arms, gripping the back of his shirt tightly. 

“Gods, Remus, I’m so sorry I was late. I didn’t think-- I took a nap and my alarm didn’t go off. I guess school has been affecting me more negatively than I thought…” He sighs, nuzzling his face into the surprised man’s shoulder. 

“Damien, you’re rather cuddly today,” Remus chuckled, a little drowsy, “Are you going soft on me? Falling in love?”  
Damien scoffed and pulled away, the scar on his face not even hidden with makeup he often covers it with. He truly was in a rush. 

“As if.” Damien snorted, and placed a kiss to his forehead, “You absolute dolt, I’m so glad you’re okay.” 

Virgil awkwardly stood in the corner, watching the two grow into their own moment. He cleared his throat, “So are you two… dating?” He asked. 

Remus nearly burst into laughter, settling for a quiet laugh he hid under his hand. Damien swatted his shoulder softly, chiding him. 

“No, thankfully. Remus is aromantic, and he’s my best friend.” 

Virgil nods, “Right, yeah, sorry, cause like everyone out there is--”   
“And I’m gay as hell.”  
“Right. Yeah. You got the ending there for me.” 

Damien and Remus sat on the ground for only a moment before joining the group.   
Virgil, a constant, was always there for an excuse if Remus needed to get up if he felt nauseous, and Damien was a helping hand if he needed to tone down his jokes, because he was turning to old habits. And the rest of the crew acted as if it almost never happened.

But if they sometimes steered the conversation away from something potentially triggering, or picked out specific movies to watch that didn’t include them, who’s to say Remus minded?


End file.
